With in a Week
by bluebirdsforever
Summary: The week after a terrible car crash has the boys struggling to recover and struggling to save friendships. When it looks as though nothing is going to help them, how will they deal with problems in which they are now faced. PLEASE REVIEW!
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue **

The intracranial pain I was experiencing was absolutely indescribable and the sirens blaring around me made it indescribably worse. This whole situation was pretty fucking indescribable. I tried to sit up, but my arm below me remain unmoving, suggesting that it was broken and unable to support my weight anyway. Fighting the protest from my other arm, I managed to push my self up. When I was finally able to life my head from the pool of concrete, glass, and blood below me, I realized the car was side ways. Upon closer inspection I realized that it was not just my blood spattered about the inside of the car, but someone else's was there too. But, who was I in the car with? All I could remember were faceless, nameless figures. I could remember they were friends, but I couldn't remember their significance. My head started to spin as I tried to remember what had happened so instead I searched my brain for the one thing I knew was mine. My name was… My name is…. And then nothing.

* * *

><p>Next to me I could see Logan try and fail to get up for a moment before fainting. It's just like Logan to pass out when the rest of the group needs him. Now I really don't know what to do. I thought he would be the one to get us out of this situation. I was too scared to move; too scared that after this I would never move again. I tried to calm down and assess the damage, but being calm was never my thing. The car was turned on its side, with the driver's side door pressed to the ground. Logan was still half sitting in the driver's seat with blood on his face and the arm below bent the wrong way. It was gross to say the least. My seatbelt was still clench around me, pinning me to the seat; hanging side ways toward the ground. I put my legs down towards the side of the car, trying not to step on Logan, and unclicked the seatbelt. As soon as I put pressure on my leg I thought I was going to vomit because the pain was so intense. So, I did what I always do when I'm hurt. Scream.<p>

* * *

><p>I was crushed under Kendall's weight with no way of moving him. I wasn't even sure if he was alive. That was something I really didn't want to think about. I could hear James screaming from the front seat. I couldn't see him, but I knew it was him because that's what James does no matter how badly he was hurt. But this time it wasn't a paper cut or a sprained ankle; this time it was serious. Everything hurt. Everything hurt very badly. I wanted to scream just as James had, but I had to keep my mouth shut because if I had opened it I would have puked. There was something stabbing in to my side. I felt my torso and gagged when I realize how my blood was pouring from the cut. I wanted to be found. I wanted to be alive. I wanted the pain to stop. I wanted someone to get the body above me off of me because I want him to be alive too. Tears started pouring from my eyes and I felt like a kid crying this hard, but it was all I could do.<p>

* * *

><p>I was trying very, very hard not to die. At least, that's what it felt like I was doing. I kept fading in and out of nothing and my body just kept trying to give up. My lungs were screaming every time I took a breath and I could feel blood gushing from my nose. I don't think it was broken. No, I know for certain my nose wasn't broken so the blood was coming from somewhere a lot worse. I kept fading in and out of life. Every once and a while I would hear somebody scream or groan in pain or cry. The crying was coming from the body below me. I felt bad about crushing him, I really did, but there was nothing I could do about it. Every second felt like and hour. As far as I was concerned, we had been trapped in that car for days; each day was blurrier and more painful then the next. Carlos was still crying. It made me happy because it meant he was still alive. It wrong to be relieved in this situation but I didn't have time to question it because I had gone to black once more.<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

JPOV

"Hey, come on kid. You gotta keep talking to me, ok?" A man said slowly to me as I was lifted on to a gurney. I looked around for the guys but they were still trapped in the totaled car, which, for the record, looked worse on the outside.

"Hey," the man said again. "Come on now, can you tell me your name?"

"James, my name is James." It took all the energy I could muster to not scream again. The pain was now concentrated around my left leg and hip.

"Ok James, I know you're hurt, but you need to tell me exactly what you're feeling; where it hurts the most." The man kept pressuring me to talk, but I just wanted the pain to stop. I was also extremely tired for some reason, like, tired enough to sleep for days.

"I'm tired. Let me sleep." I stated with annoyance.

"Yeah that's pretty common with head injuries, but you can't sleep after an accident like that. Now, could you tell me where it hurts the most?"

"My hip. My leg. Left side." I was having trouble just spitting out complete sentences. I could feel my eyes getting heavier and the pain was starting to radiate around the rest of my body.

"I told you James, you have to stay awake," I was now vaguely aware that I was in an ambulance. "Now I am gonna have to press on your side to assess as much of the damage as I can, it's really gonna hurt, but you have to stay with me, ok?" he pressed two fingers to my side in between my hip and rib cage. The pain was bad, but I could handle it, that is until he moved hid hand to the lower side of my hip. I screamed again before I could stop myself. The scream dissolved in to silent tears. I wanted this to be over.

"Ok James, I am pretty sure your hip and femur are broken, along with your nose, any other damage will have to be determined when we get to the hospital."

"My nose?" I questioned. I could not have a broken nose, not after how much work I have put in to being this good looking.

"Yeah, It's pretty bad, but right now it is the least of your problems." With that the paramedic continued to examine me, but I was half way in between paying attention and passing out.

KPOV

It felt as though someone had just dropped me in ice water after I had been set on fire. I'm not trying to be dramatic but it felt like my body was pulsating along with my heart, and it burned. I couldn't move, so I opted for just trying to breath.

"Welcome back." I heard a voice say with a sigh of relief. I was confused. Back? Back from where?

The face that belonged to the voice appeared above me. It was a woman in a paramedic's outfit.

"I though we had lost you," She spoke again. "When we finally got you out of that car, you started seizing and we had to sedate you, but something went wrong and your heart stopped." She said this as if it was some juicy bit of gossip she had been meaning to spill.

"Where…" I couldn't continue, my chest was trying to cave in on itself and breathing was not my friend at the moment. The paramedic answered anyway.

"Ambulance, on the way to St. Mary's hospital. Your friends are going to be fine, your parents have been called and you where just clinically dead for 3 minutes, so please try and rest to prevent further risk of brain damage."

Going to be fine. She said they were going to be fine. What did that mean? She also said I had been in a car. When? Why don't I remember being in the car? Why was I in the car? What friends did she mean? Who had been with me? Had they been clinically dead for 3 minutes? Where they actually dead and she was just saying that to comfort me?

Both my head and heart were racing. I couldn't die though. I couldn't force my self to give up, no matter how intense the pain. I had to make sure those friends were ok, or at least breathing. I felt the ambulance pull to a stop. The paramedics started to rush around me and it became to much as I felt myself pass out again.

LPOV

I was in a room with my best friend who had become perfect strangers. I think I was in an emergency room. Every motion I tried to perceive was blurry. The boy in the bed next to me was covered in a lot of blood. This made me really scared. But why? I didn't even know him. For some reason the thought of that boy dying made me almost sick to my stomach. I felt tears welling in my eyes for the boy I didn't know.

He was short and had dark, latino-esque skin and spiky black hair. Despite his child like face he looked about my age… I think. His face was contorted in to extreme pain, which made me more worried. Why was I so concerned for someone I had never met?

I kept looking for familiar things; things that would pull me out of this haze. The bed across from me contained a boy who also looked like he could be my age… I think. He was tall with brown hair and hazel eyes, his nose was bleeding, swollen and looked like it had been knocked out of place. Over all he was very handsome, the kind of handsome where you know you're handsome. When he finally met my eyes he looked relieved.

"Logan," The boy choked. I looked around the room to see whom he was talking to. "Logan," he said again. "Logan, I am talking to you. It's me, James. Are you ok?"

James. The guy said his name was James. That name meant something to me. Didn't it? He had called me Logan. Was that my name?

"Uh, yeah, I'm ok." He looked happy until I said, "You called me Logan. Is that my name?"

"Yeah Loges, it is. We are best friends. Remember me? I'm James." I didn't remember. "And he's Carlos." James pointed to the bloody guy whom doctors where swarming.

Carlos. Yeah, that sounded right. Yeah his name was Carlos and we were friends.

"Yeah," I said to James. "I know him. He is my friend. Who are you?"

"Logan, I'm your friend, too." James looked sad.

"I'm sorry, I don't-"

"James," A nurse interrupted. "We need to prep you for surgery now." With that the boy who said he was my friend was wheeled away looking scared, and I was left confused.

CPOV

The pain in my side had become so bad that all my senses where gone. I couldn't see or feel anything but the massive gash in my side. Someone was talking to me but I didn't know what he or she was saying. They were speaking loudly and clearly but my brain refused to listen. Finally I was able to make myself focus.

"Ok, we are going to get the glass out of your side now. Unfortunately you have be awake for the procedure so we can monitor your vitals." A doctor was speaking. "Don't worry, we will give something for the pain."

I felt something puncture the skin on my arm and then- relief. A numb went over my body with in a few moments. I could still feel hands poking about my abdomen. I looked over only to see a piece of glass at least 6 inches long be removed from my body. Needless to say, I didn't stay awake for much longer

. . .

"Carlos," A voice was calling me out of sleep. I looked over to see James sitting in a wheel chair with a cast running from his toes to his hip, with a variety of other bandages holding him together. "Oh, good." He said. "You're awake. They showed me the glass they pulled out of you. I almost puked, man." He was trying to joke around, but I knew something was wrong.

"Logan is fine. He, uh, I guess he hit his head pretty hard and is having trouble remembering things." His face went blank as he said that, like it worse then he was letting on. "Kendall, well they wont let me see him. I heard a nurse say something last night about cardiac arrest, but nothing today." James turned a greenish color as he said this.

"You, by the way, have been asleep for nearly 24 hours. The crash was yesterday around 1 am, we got to the hospital around 1:30, I went in to surgery around 2:15 and that's about the time you blacked out, and it's almost midnight now. They told me that when they tried to set my hipbone it was so shattered in places that they needed to glue it back together. Can you believe that?" I knew he was just talking to fill the space but soon he fell silent and we just sat there until and nurse came in to "up" my morphine and I fell back in to sleep. He


	3. Chapter 3

KPOV

I was nowhere. I was just in blank space waiting to be pulled out. Every once and a while a memory would flash in to the space, but I still couldn't piece together what had happened. Less frequently I would have a small moment of consciousness. I would see someone adjusting the machinery by which I was being kept alive. I would see doctors checking the chart hang on my bed. I even saw Logan once with a doctor at his side, but most of the time I was alone.

In the deep stretches of black I would sometimes see my mother hovering above me or holding my hand. She often spoke to me. Sometimes it would just be sweet nothings wishing me to get better, but she kept saying one thing that troubled me over and over again. "Why didn't I see the pain you were in sweetie? How could I have failed so badly as a mother?" I hoped those were just nightmares. I silently prayed and begged and pleaded that those were just nightmares. They couldn't be real, because I could never hurt my mom. I just wanted things to get better.

Over the past few hours I felt my meds getting weaker and weaker and soon I was awake and in pain. My breathing started to quicken in response to the damage and the skin surrounding my chest felt like it had been burned off. I think that's where they had to shock me. My eyes kept trying to roll back in my head but something was keeping me awake. After a while a figure appeared above me.

"I know you are in pain, but I needed to see you awake." Said the body. "I am Dr. Rebecca Moon. I am your neurologist. Under normal circumstances, cardiac arrest patients would only spend a day or two in the ICU, and then be moved to rehab, but with your condition I am afraid it's going to be more than that. Could you nod if you understand me?" She said politely. She was calm and had a nice presence, she reminded me of my mom.

I nodded. At least, I tried to. I commanded my muscles to move, but my head remained stationary. I had to scream the action in my brain before my body responded at all. My head jerked slightly and I was hoping she would interoperate it as a nod.

"Good. Now I am going to hold your hand and I would like you to grasp mine back." I didn't know how to do that. I remember holding someone's hand. I remember my hand being held. I remember how warm and safe it felt, but my body couldn't remember how to do it. "Kendall, didn't you hear me? I want you to grasp my hand." Dr. Moon sounded as worried as I felt. "Ok, new plan. I would like you to blink once for yes and twice for no, ok?" I blinked.

"Can you move your arm at all?" I blinked no.

"Can you feel my hand holding your hand?" I blinked yes.

Dr. Moon walked to pick up the phone on the opposite side of the room and dialed a number.

"Yes I need to order an MRI for Kendall Knight, he is experiencing partial paralysis." My stomach jumped in to my throat. Paralysis. Like paralyzed. Like, I can never walk again. I could feel tears well up in my eyes as Dr. Moon injected something in to my IV, and for what must have been the millionth time that day, I faded in to black.

LPOV

"Hortense, we are going to see someone who we think you used to know. If you remember anything, anything at all, I would like you to tell us." Dr. Nugent said to me slowly. He always talks to me so slowly. He thinks that because I have no idea who I am that I'm stupid.

"You keep calling me Hortense. Why? Why do you keep calling me that?" I have no idea why I was so upset by this, but it was like they were calling me by just my last name. Like, the name belonged to me, and all, but there wasn't anything personal about it.

"That's your name, you do remember your name don't you?" They were still speaking to me as if I couldn't speak English.

"No, I mean yeah I do, but no." Dr. Nugent and the nurse who was pushing my wheel chair exchanged a look as if I had just told them my best friend was a jar of paint.

"Hortense, if you are confused or too tired we can bring you back to your room."

"No!" I said with far too much force. "I mean, uh, I'm fine." I said trying to regain my composure. Once again the doctor and nurse exchanged a look, but said nothing as they wheeled me in to an elevator.

"Ok, Hortense, we are going to visit someone with whom you were in the crash with."

"You mean Carlos? Carlos is my friend." It would be nice to see someone I knew.

"You remember Carlos? That's fantastic news!" He seemed relieved. "But unfortunately we had to move Carlos to a clean room early this morning due to breathing complications." The elevator stopped and a sign in the hallway of the new floor read ICU.

"The person you're going to see can't actually talk with you at the moment." The nurse added in. "You just have to tell us if you remember anything about them, ok"

"Yeah, I understand." But I didn't really. Why couldn't they just tell me whom we were going to see?

Soon we reached a room with all of the blinds pulled shut. Didn't that mean that someone was dead? I didn't want to see a body.

"Hortense, you just need to relax." I nodded and we went in to the room

No, the person wasn't dead. He looked far worse. His head was covered in bandages and he was hooked up to more machinery then I had seen in the entire hospital.

"What's wrong with him?" I wondered aloud.

"That doesn't matter. Could you tell us who this boy is?"

Of course I could. That boy was brave and strong. That boy was a year younger than me and had green eyes and a big nose. I knew that even though his face was covered. The boy was kind and caring and stubborn and had abandonment issues. He kept a calm head but was aggressive when he needed to be. And yet, I had no idea who he was.

"Do you know him?" Dr. Nugent pressed.

"Kind of. He is wrong."

"Wrong? How do you mean wrong?"

"He can't be like that. He can't be hurt."

"And what do you mean by that?" The doctor looked confused. I didn't know what I mean by that. Why didn't he understand?

"He did this to himself." I don't what compelled me to say that, but as soon as I did, it made sense. "Yeah he…" but I couldn't remember what he did.

"Do you remember what caused the crash?"

"Yeah, no. You keep saying "crash" but I have no fucking idea what you're talking about. I don't even know him! How the hell would I know what happened to him?"

I was then escorted back to my room with out another word.

JPOV

Counting ceiling tiles is only so fun for so long. And by that I mean never. It is never fun, but it's all I have to do. I can't walk, I can't sit up by myself, I can't eat with out help, I can't wear my own clothes. I can't watch television until the concussion begins to heal. I can't even go to the fucking bathroom by myself. It makes you feel dead when you can't do anything. You feel like you've been drugged and people are now free to move you about like a rag-doll. Your free will gets taken from you when you're hurt. People assume that if your body is broken, your mind is too.

Ugh, even my internal monologue is becoming pretentiously depressed. It's weird - when I'm alone I have to think about serious things, but when I am surrounded by people my brain goes on autopilot.

They let me see Carlos last night, but since then he had a lot of trouble breathing so he had to be moved somewhere else in the hospital. He's been the only one I've been allowed to see. Kendall is too unstable for anyone to be in the room but Mama Knight. I don't even think she's left the hospital since it happened. God only knows if Camille was even in the crash considering she was in the car behind us. I wish I knew is she was ok. And Logan, I think they are just hoping he hasn't lost everything.

"Hello James," A doctor said while entering my room without knocking. "I am your friend Mr. Mitchell's neurologist, Dr. Nugent."

Why is it that the first thing doctors tell you is useless nonsense about them? For people who have dedicated their lives to healing others they are extraordinarily selfish. They just walk in and give you their name and position at the hospital and then they practically show you their Goddamn PHD. Then the will march on to tell you what's wrong with and how they are going to fix it just to let you know haw smart they are. Only then will they tell you something you care about, like why they are bothering you in the first place.

"So," the doctor spoke again. "By the looks of your chart you have a concussion, a broken nose, some skin lacerations, various deep contusions in many places, and a shattered hip and femur." He was honestly just wasting his breath considering I could have told him that.

"Yeah, I know." I tried to sound annoyed to see if he would just get to the point.

"It looks as though you wouldn't be too strained to talk to Mr. Mitchell then." Wow. Dr. "What's-his-face" was sassy.

"He's ok? I can talk to him?"

"Well to an extent. He has some severe cuts on his face and neck and a broken elbow. His whiplash is bad enough to keep him in a wheel chair and he also can't remember anything so we are hoping that being around you will jog his memory."

"Yeah, what ever. Bring him in." At least he's alive.

Dr. Sassy-Master walked to the door and beaconed for someone to come in. A nurse brought a confused looking Logan in to the room.

"Hortense, would you like to speak to James?" Hortense. The nurse called him Hortense. What the hell?

"His name is Logan." I corrected "Why the hell are you calling him Hortense; his name is Logan." The nurse was shocked by my bluntness.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm Logan." Logan said this with way too much uncertainty. "And you're James. I met you in the ER a few days ago."

"No, Loges, you met me 11 years ago, in 3rd grade." I guess he was too shocked to respond because he changed the subject really quickly.

"Why is the blonde guy on dialysis?"

"What? Logan, do you mean Kendall?" How had he seen Kendall?

"You recognized the dialysis machine?" Dr. Sass-a-Frass intruded.

"Yeah, I want to be a doctor." Logan looked as if he had no clue as to why he just said that. "Why is he getting his blood cleaned? Is his liver failing?"

Neither me, nor Dr. SassyPants wanted to take reins on this one. I still couldn't bring my self to think about what Kendall did. We sat in silence for a few moments before I nodded and said "Yeah, Loges. His liver is failing."

CPOV

It's pretty scary when you black out in once place and wake up somewhere else. It's like the world is there to shout, "Haha, joke's on you!" Though I feel like this situation is pretty specific to me at the moment.

The room was completely white apart from the metallic and plastic tools and machinery. There were two doors you'd have to go through to enter the room. The first one had a handle, but the second was automatic. Between the two doors was a small room with a sink and the smocks doctor usually wear for surgery. Soon enough there was a man at the sink washing his hands to his elbows and it looked like he was having air blown on him before had put on gloves and a smock. When he entered the room, a nurse followed the same pattern.

"Hello Mr. Garcia. Sorry we had to change your room. I'm sure that came as a bit of a shock, but try to relax. Very early this morning you began to have sever breathing troubles and you coughed up a fair bit of blood in your sleep. We had you straight in to surgery and as it turns out the glass that punctured your side cut a small hole in you lung and it began to fill with fluid. Not to worry though because the damage has been repaired. The clean room was just a precaution in case of infection to the wound via bacterial inhalation." He sounded far to chipper to be telling me this.

I tried to respond but began to gag as soon as I discovered something had been threaded drown my throat. It felt like something was just sitting on my trachea.

"No, no. Keep calm. That tube is just there to help you breath." The doctor said as I continued sputtering. "We can take it out now, you just need to keep calm." I did as he said as the nurse rushed over and removed the devise connected to the tube.

"Ok, Carlos I need you to cough as I pull the tube out." She said calmly. I did as she said and it felt like she was pulling a cheese grater out of my lungs. "Good job." She said as if I had actually done something. "I will get you some ice chips for your throat." And with that she left me alone with the still unnamed doctor.

"Ok, Carlos I have a few things I need to tell you. Don't worry, you don't have to talk; just listen. I think I have to start with the good news, because quite frankly it's not going to make the bad news any better." He looked at me for a cue to continue so I nodded.

"So you, in comparison to your friends, have actually suffered far less injury than to be expected in this crash. The helmet you happened to be wearing saved your life for the most part. Your lungs will probably be strong enough to discharge you tomorrow, provided you stay on an oxygen tank. I should warn you, this recovery won't be easy, but you are going to live a healthy, normal life when it's over." He paused again not knowing how to move on from that point. Being honest I was thrilled to be going home, but his face turned grim. The idea of the bad news that was unfixable by good news made my stomach churn, but I needed to get it over with. I nodded once again.

"It's obvious that your car wasn't the only one totaled by this crash. The pile up has put at least 4 other people in the hospital. One of the cars behind you ended up catching fire…" He didn't know how to go on and I didn't want him to, but he did anyway. "Your friend, Camille Roberts was declared dead yesterday. When her parents came to identify the body, they requested we tell you and your friends. I am so sorry for your loss.

As soon as he uttered his last word I leaned over the bed and puke my guts out. By throat felt seared and burned and acid crept in to my nose, but I didn't care. Camille was dead. The doctor may have said he was sorry, but that meant nothing to me. It would forever mean nothing to any one who knew Camille. But she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**"What is an "instant" death anyway? How long is an instant? Is it one second? Ten? The pain of those seconds must have been awful as her heart burst and her lungs collapsed and there was no air and no blood to her brain and only raw panic. What the hell is instant? Nothing is instant. Instant rice takes five minutes, instant pudding an hour. I doubt that an instant of blinding pain feels particularly instantaneous."**

**― John Green, _Looking for Alaska_**

JPOV

"Dead?" I finally choked out. "No. She can't… I mean that's not. It just can't…" I was dimly aware that I was crying, but it didn't fucking matter. Nothing would ever fucking matter after this.

"James, I am so sorry for your loss. From what I've heard she was a close friend." Dr. Sassy-Face said, trying to actually sound concerned and as though he didn't just tell me that I would never see one of my best friends again.

"No, you're not fucking sorry! You didn't even know her! You have no fucking idea! Of course she was a close friend, you wouldn't be telling me this if she wasn't. If she wasn't a close friend I would have found out on my own! Am I the only one you've told? Or, have you let everyone else just live in ignorance?" I didn't care that I was yelling. I knew he didn't deserve it. It's not like it was his fault, but made things feel ok when there was someone to blame.

That's a lie. It didn't feel ok. It felt like a truck ran over my stomach. As much as I hated Dr. PHD-of-Sass, I couldn't actually blame him for her death. How could you blame anything but an accident for the death of someone that amazing? There was a ringing in my ears and my vision was starting to warp the room around me. I guess that's just how the world looks when Camille is no longer here

"Well we've told Carlos and Mrs. Knight, but that's about all we can do with out over whelming Logan. Kendall is still fighting a coma, so we can't exactly tell him the news." Here he goes again with the sass. "James, I know you're angry, but we have a great team of therapist on staff for you to speak with who specify in grief counseling."

"I don't need a fucking therapist. I don't need any of this! When can this all just be over? When can life just be normal again?" I think he was getting pretty tired of my shouting.

"Well, I can speak with your attending physician and surgeon to see if we can't have you discharged by tomorrow at the least. You should know though, I really am sorry for your loss."

"Yeah, ok, fine. Doctor…" I never did learn his name.

"Nugent, Doctor Edward Nugent." I still didn't care what his name was.

We just stood there staring at each other for a moment. I think he was bracing himself to see if I would yell again.

"You should know; she died almost instantly on the scene. She just wasn't declared until yesterday because there was no ID on the body" He said this as if it would comfort me.

"THAT DOESN'T MEAN SHE DIDN'T FEEL PAIN! THAT DOESN'T MEAN SHE WASN'T IN AGNONY! THAT DOESN'T MEAN HER PARENTS DIDN'T WONDER WHETHER OR NOT THEIR CHILD WAS COMING HOME FOR OVER 24 HOURS! THAT DOESN'T MEAN LOGAN DIDN'T LOSE THE ONE HE REALLY LOVED EVEN THOUGH HE CAN'T REMEMBER HER!" I could feel the blood rushing to my face as I screamed. My voice was aching from the sudden out burst. Dr. Nugent, well, quite frankly, he looked scared. Finally he looked me in the eye and said-

"I know. If you need to talk to anyone ask a nurse and she will see to it. I will try and start your discharge papers." He exited with out another word.

* * *

><p>CPOV<p>

"Would you like more?" Said the nurse with a spoon full of ice chips.

"Yeah." I gasped. My nose and throat were still ablaze due the acid residue from puking as hard as I did. She spooned another bit of the ice in to my mouth. It was like holding fine snow between my teeth and it dulled the subsiding burn in my throat.

"I'm afraid that's as much ice as I can give you, but I can get you a glass of water for your throat." The nurse smiled politely. She seemed to feel as sad as I did about this situation, or at least she was more sympathetic towards it. She walked over to the sink and handed me a full cup of water, which I downed immediately. I was about to ask her name was but then the doctor walked in to the room again.

"Carlos, I hate to bother you after telling you such horrendous news," He could have just said, "I hate to bother you," with out reminding me once again of what had happened and it would have been fine. He didn't have to bring it up. "You seem to be the only one of your friends who Logan can seem to remember. His doctor and I would like to see how he reacts to a conversation with you. We expect, or we are hoping rather, that being reintroduced to familiar things will help jog his memory. Would you be willing, or are you feeling up to going to his room to speak with him?"

"Does he… Have you told him?" My voice sounded like I had been smoking for 30 years, but was hoping he would get what I was asking.

"No, we can't tell him until he remembers her. I really hate to ask you to not mention it, but unfortunately he won't understand why it's a big deal until he remembers the connection he had with her."

It took me a moment to process what that meant to me. Logan actually didn't remember the fist girl he ever told he loved. He didn't remember James or Kendall, who he's known since 3rd grade. Sure, he remembered me, but he couldn't remember everything if he couldn't remember the guys.

"Yeah, I guess… I will go talk to him." I was still horse, but I owed it to Logan to help him remember the life he had forgotten, considering I couldn't imagine a life with out my friends, and he can't remember a life with them

"Good. Your movement will be rather confined I'm afraid. You have at least 30 stitches inside and out and your lungs are probable going to react to some positions better than others. Obviously you will be in a wheelchair; we are going to have to walk out of the clean room before we can get you one. Don't worry we will help you sit up and walk."

The idea of walking seemed undesirable to say the least. I thought I had pulled a stitch just by vomiting earlier. The doctor and nurse walked to my side and pushed a button making my bed rise to a sitting position. The doctor put one of my arms over his shoulder as the nurse helped me swing my feet over the bed. So far this wasn't entirely impossible.

A string of "ow's" rushed out of my mouth as I put weight on my legs, and tried to stand up as much as possible. The doctor took more of my weight upon hearing this as I made my first step. It took about 15 minutes to reach the wheelchair waiting outside of my room. It was a relief to plop down in the wheel chair and take as much strain off my body as possible. That is until, I saw Mama Knight standing in the hallway with tear tracks covering her face. The sight made my heart sink.

"I though I would visit Logan with you." She said fighting back tears. I could only nod in response.

* * *

><p>LPOV<p>

Walking. I had done a lot of it today. The doctors said that it will help me on my way to recovery, but as far as I'm concerned, taking little strolls about the hallway won't bring back my memory anytime soon. They've asked me near a million questions today about my life. Some of them I can answer like "Where were you born?" and "When is your birthday?" but others just seem to vague to answer like "How did you become friend with Carlos?" or "Do you remember any thing about James?"

How could anyone, bust memory or not, answer a question like that. How could you just pick out one moment when you became someone's friend? And what was I supposed to remember about James? His height? His favorite book? His greatest fear? His opinion on foreign oil dependency? The fact that he broke his arm in 8th grade because he fell out of –

Wait. James broke his arm falling out of a tree. Why did I know that? How could I know that? I wasn't there; I didn't see it happen! But… I was there… He did it because Kendall dared him to, because he knew that James was afraid of heights.

All day! All day this had been happening to me! I just keep remembering things that have nothing to do with what the doctors want to know. All I could remember were flashes of the most unspecific, unimportant moments of my life. Why could it not just come back in the right order? Why did I have to sit here and put these moments of my life in a time frame like putting together a jigsaw puzzle?

Life itself is like a jigsaw puzzle, is it not? Someone just happened to kick a few of my pieces under the rug. And as it turns out, they weren't the unnecessary out line pieces; they were the ones that made up the face of the portrait.

My feet started to hurt as I pondered this; I had been pacing for near 20 minutes by my bed. Slowly I turned around and dragged the rack on which my medication was hanging to connect with the IV point in my arm back to it's position by the bed so I could sit down. There was a quiet knock at the door and it slowly opened to reveal a thin red haired woman pushing a wheelchair that held Carlos. The boys face lit up as he entered the room, but it looked like a very false sense of happiness.

"Logan! Hey, man. What's up?" His voice sounded raw and scratchy.

"Hi. Nothing. You?" I would have been more articulate if it weren't for the red-haired woman staring at me. I looked up and her and she smiled.

"Logan," she said hesitantly. "Do you remember me at all? I Mrs. Knight-"

"Kendall's mom." I finished for her. "Mama. Knight, I am so sorry."

"For what?"

"For…" I didn't really know what for, but I didn't know I was sorry for something. "For, uh, crashing the car. For getting us hurt. I was the one driving right?"

"No, no, no sweetie. It was a drunk driver, it had nothing to do with you." She smiled at me, but her cheeks were bright red from crying. We starred at each other for a moment before another woman entered the room.

"Hello, Mrs. Knight, I was wondering if you and the boys could come up to Kendall's room to further discuss what happened and his condition.

"Yes, Dr. Moon, of course." Mama Knight apparently knew what she was talking about, but I had no idea.

* * *

><p>KPOV<p>

Things were different today. For one thing, I had been awake for most of the day, for another I could move a bit more today. But not everything about today was a good difference. Memories started to become clearer and I now knew why I was having so much trouble with what I thought were dreams of my mom standing over me, telling me she had failed.

I could now remember why I wasn't conscious during the car crash. I remembered pounding on walls and my friends screaming and the breaking of the lock on the bathroom door and the moment when they had realized what I had tried to do.

Every one was gathered in my room now. My mom sat in a hospital chair holding my hand with Logan on her other side. James was on my left with Carlos next to him and Dr. Moon at the foot of my bed. Despite the reunion, no one was smiling. My mom had sent Katie out of the room for this discussion, and Katie left with out putting up a fight. I would too, if I had found out my hero had broken.

"So, Kendall, when you arrived at the hospital you had suffered a seizure and cardiac arrest, you are being treated for both of these as we speak. The car crash itself didn't cause as much damage to your body as to be expected, but there was some severe head trauma involved." Dr. Moon said with no expression on her face. "Now, I was wondering if you could tell me anything about that night, or any thing you remember."

I just looked at her. It was a lot easier to admit to what I knew in theory. I shook my head and she turned to the people lining my bed, to see if they had any answers. Of course, none of them wanted to talk about it.

"Well, uh…" James faltered. "We came home around 12:30 after rehearsal, and uh…" He looked to Carlos to see if he would say anything, but Carlos responded by looking at the floor. "Kendall had… Kendall had left rehearsal early and we thought he had just gone to bed, but no one could find him. The bathroom door was locked… and uh… We started shouting for him, but he didn't answer… We finally… We broke the lock on the door and found Kendall face down… With a punch of empty pill bottles and an empty bottle of vodka… We were gonna call for help, but Logan said he would drive so we… and then the intersection… and a like 3 other cars…" James was trying to cry and hold his breath at the same time, he couldn't calm him self down enough to finish. Logan was a bright green color and Carlos was staring at the floor. My mom was staring at me letting tears fall down her face silently.

"Yes," said Dr. Moon "The mix of medications and alcohol cause the cardiac arrest when mixed with the sedative at the crash scene. Steroids are now treating the massive swelling in your brain that had caused your impaired motor function. Kendall, I have discussed treatment options with your mother about the depression. There will have to be some serious rehab even after you're discharged." She said this softly and kindly to try and let me adjust to the idea of life after this, but it still made me sick.

We sat in silence for a few moments until James spoke up.

"Kendall, why did you do it?"

"Because I wanted to die." I couldn't say it in anything above a whisper, but it was the truth. Once again the room felt silent, but not before Logan could say:

"This is what I meant I was sorry for, Mamma Knight."


	5. Chapter 5

**(AUTHORS NOTE)Sorry this took so long to update. I've been super busy, but I will try to update more frequently. Oh, and for the record, anything that is italicized in Kendall's POV is like a spoken thought.**

* * *

><p>CPOV<p>

Everyone has bad days. Not anymore. I can honestly say that I wont have any more bad days. It's basically impossible to ever feel hurt again. I think that's how everyone else feels, too. We don't have a real reason to be happy anymore so why bother.

I bet that's how Kendall felt. I bet that was one of his main thoughts before he was too drunk to think, and I bet it was even still etched on the back of his brain as he swallowed the pilla that didn't belong to him. And we didn't do anything about it. He wouldn't let us in, so we couldn't help him out.

That whole "no-more-bad-days" thing is probably a pretty happy thought for some people out there, but for me it just means that this is the worst it can get and life can't just spring up and go back to normal. How could it? It's not like we can just carry on like we were, because that's what made him sick. We can't go back to that because it made him suffer so badly that he couldn't talk to anyone; that he saw only one way out.

"Things are gonna get better, yeah?" James asked from the other side of the room, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"What?"

"Things are, gonna, like, get better…" His face was begging me to say yes, but I honestly didn't know how to answer.

"Better for who?" I whispered. James just looked at the floor. Whispering and staring at the floor seemed to be the theme of the day. Whispering is something 6th graders did in the hallway. Floor looking is what a child does while lying. They have no business surrounding a situation so grim. They have no business to be around so much destruction, with such little opportunity for revenge.

"And why did she do that?" James broke the silence again. "Why did that bitch of a doctor make us tell her what happened. She knew what happened. She KNEW! And there she was making us relive it. What a condescending bitch." He sounded relieved as he said that, as if he had been holding it in all day.

"I think she wanted to let Kendall know that we knew while we were there." I wasn't exactly trying to side with the doctor, but I wasn't in the mood to join James' "Occupy Neurology" rant. He continued anyway.

"Yeah, but she did it with out warning. She loved making everyone uncomfortable and depressed. I bet it was the highlight of her day."

"James, I don't think she is that sadistic."

"Carlos. I don't think she's a sadist. I know she's a sadist."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because she is Satan. She radiates pure hell. Can't you smell it?"

"That's very logical of you, James." For some reason my sarcasm felt a little to lighthearted for the situation.

"Yeah, I should right a book."

"On logic?"

"No, on Satan detection." He said acting entirely serious.

After a few moments we smiled at each other and started laughing. Like, proper hard laughing that ripped at my stitches. It wasn't even funny; being honest it was probably one of the most useless jokes James had ever made. But, damn it was the happiest conversation I had had in weeks. When the laughter died down we both felt pretty guilty. We shouldn't be having any kind of fun in this piece of shit situation with its even shittier outcome.

"Hey, you feel bad for laughing too, right?" James voice was still sparkled with a slight smile.

"Yeah, I feel awful about it." My frown was evident in my inflection.

"Felt good though."

"Yeah… Yeah it did."

* * *

><p>LPOV (flashback)<p>

My feet felt like they were sinking in to my shoes. I couldn't even begin to guess how long I had been on my feet, although the pain in my lower back was telling me somewhere close to 20 hours. We had gotten to the studio around 8 this morning only to be released somewhere around midnight.

"Logan, is it medically possible for my butt to fall off?" James whined as he plopped on the couch.

"No. It's not." I said taking a seat next to him.

"Are you sure? Because being honest, I think I'm about to reach that point."

"Why? Are you looking to get it amputated?" Carlos shouted from the kitchen as he grabbed a few bottles of water out of the fridge and threw them towards James and me. The water felt like heaven running down my tired throat. We all just sat there sipping quietly for a moment thinking about how wonderful sleeping sounded right now. Soon James spoke up.

"So… Where's Kendall?"

"I don't know," answered Carlos. "I haven't seen him since he ran out of rehearsal. He apparently told Kelly that he was going to puke and she sent him home."

"Gross." I said. "I guess I can go see if he's ok." They both nodded and mumbled something incoherent. My body protested as I got up from my relieving position on the couch and wondered to the room Kendall and I shared, flicking on the lights. He wasn't in there and there was no light coming from under the bathroom door.

"Guys," I projected over my shoulder. "He's not here, or in the bathroom."

"What do you mean he's not here?" James called. "He can't not be here, its midnight and his car is in the lot." After saying this both he and Carlos were all of a sudden hovering over me. James stepped around me and picked up a piece of paper that had been tossed on the ground. He unfolded it only to drop it on the ground and throw himself against the bathroom door.

"Kendall!' He shouted. "Don't do this buddy, we need you!" I looked to Carlos who was equally confused by James' reaction the scrap bit of paper. James was still shouting and pounding on the door; shaking the knob, willing it to open. I picked up the note so that Carlos and I could read it. Carlos immediately joined James's struggle, but I remained fixed on the spot. The paper was a note; a note that said one word in tear smudged ink. The note read "alone."

"Logan!' James shouted, pulling me out of my stupor. "Logan call 911! Logan, he's going to… he tried to… Logan, just get an ambulance!"

"No, no. I can drive to the hospital. It's, like, two minutes away, just get the fucking door open!" After a few more moments of struggle James managed to break the knob off, breaking the lock as well. What we found was worse that I imagined. Kendall was lying face down on the floor with out a shirt on. The shirt he had been wearing earlier was discarded and wreaked of vomit. Clutched in his hand was a large empty bottle of vodka and pills from every bottle in the cabinet were scattered about the floor.

"Oh, God! Oh, fuck! No! Carlos, get his legs! Logan, go get the car!" I did as I was told and ran to the lobby only to smack in to a girl with dark hair.

"Camille! Kendall, he tried to… Hospital…" The girl looked at me and for some reason understood my jibberish.

"Go! Get your car and I'll follow behind you, we can meet at the hospital." I nodded in response and ran. Carlos and James were waiting with Kendall as soon as I pulled up. James helped get Kendall in the back seat with Carlos and waved to tell Camille that we needed to hurry, before he hopped in shotgun.

"Drive." He commanded and I complied by going about 20 over the speed limit, only stopping at a red light.

"Turn green, Goddammit!" Carlos shouted at the light. When it finally did, I bolted in the intersection only to be rammed in to a ditch as everything went black and then white.

"Logan. Logan, wake up." I found my self drenched in sweat in the hospital. My clothes were plastered to my body and my mouth was dry. Mamma Knight was standing above with concern cemented to her face.

"Camille," I said quietly. "She's dead isn't she?" The thought made my lungs collapse in on themselves and Mamma Knight could only nod in response.

* * *

><p>KPOV<p>

Katie was sitting at the edge of my bed. She sat there in attempt to comfort me, but it felt like she was there just to make me feel like weak for doing what I did. I can't really say it… not to myself anyway… Kendall Knight is to strong and happy to commit suicide, so he could never admit that the thought had entered his mind when he was only 15.

Katie was still staring at me. No emotion showed on her face. No emotion showed on mine, but we were having a pretty silent in-depth conversation. She asked me how I felt and I lied. She told me to tell the truth and I did. I asked what it was like and the Palmwoods and she told me how everything had stopped there; the Palmwoods was moving in a black clad slow motion with Camille gone. I asked her what she meant about Camille and she chose to answer with her voice.

"She died in the crash." She let herself show emotion as she said this, trying to pass of wiping away a tear as scratching her face. I still chose to remain silent, but I asked her-

"_Camille was in the car with us?" _

"No, she was in the car behind you. She was trying to make sure you were safe and she wanted to meet Logan here." Her voice finally suited her stature: small.

"_Its my fault she's dead…" _A thousand pound wait was pressed on to my throat as I thought this. Guilt hit me in the face harder than the car that hit us.

"A drunk killed Camille, not you. The only death you'd be responsible for is your own." This sentence was a bit louder than the last.

_"You're mad at me because I tried to kill myself." _It wasn't a question. I new it was true; she had every right to be mad at me. When Dad left I told her I would never try to leave he behind, but I really fucked that one up.

"I morally and physically can't be mad at you. Not ever. Its not just because of this." She gestured to the air around her. "I am, however, frustrated that you couldn't swallow your pride enough to get help. Kendall, I love you big brother, but you can't act strong and let yourself suffer." She was back to the quiet talking.

_"Why? I've done it for years?"_

"You can't do it because far to many people love you for you to have a reason to suffer in silence. You have amazing friends, you have Mom, and you even have me! Your note said "alone" because no one knew what you were going through, but that's because you wouldn't let us in."

_"It's funny how much worse this conversation has made me feel." _

"I'm not trying to reprimand you. I'm trying to make you see how many people would lose part of themselves if you weren't here. I'm trying to make you see how many people love you. Some even love you more than you think. When you and the guys and Mom sat down to talk about treatment yesterday, James waited in your room until you were asleep to kiss your forehead and tell you to get better."

_"He what?"_

"If you ask him, he'll deny it, but that's the truth. Even James isn't conceited enough to ignore your problems."

_"Does that mean I'm the only one conceited enough to ignore my problems?"_

"Yes."

To an outsider, this scene would have looked like a young girl speaking with a mute, but to me it was a silent conversation perfectly understood by my sister, who is always right.

* * *

><p>JPOV<p>

"Logan remembers the crash." Mamma Knight broadcasted as she entered the room with out announcing her presence. "He remembers all of it." He face look red like she had just run here from Logan's room.

"And you just left him there?" I questioned, not wanting to be rude, but that's how it appeared.

"No, of course not. He was having a sort of fit or something. He had screamed in his sleep and I ran in to his room to check on him and he just looked at me and knew she was dead." She seemed less out of breath, but still red in the face.

"So you just left him after that?" chimed in Carlos.

"Carlos? Why are you in James' room?"

"They let us stay together because we are both going home tomorrow. Mamma Knight. Get to the point. Did you just leave Logan there."

"No, shh, stop interrupting and I'll tell you." She said in her "I-am-you-temporary-mother-let-me-talk" voice. "He knew she was dead and when I confirmed it he just about killed me. He was calm at first and then went in to a rage and started screaming and knocking down machinery and ripping things apart. When they finally calmed him down he was crying so hard they has to sedate him." She finished and waited for our reactions.

"So what does that mean…?" I questioned, still confused by the situation.

"It means Logan isn't coming home as soon as we thought, and I am not going to be the one to tell Gustavo, who, by the way, is waiting for the ok to come talk to you boys." She looked at us both with pity. "He'll be up in a few minutes so be—"

"Hello Dogs." Gustavo said from the doorway with out his usual tone of annoyance. Kelly, who had popped up next to him, elbowed him in the ribs anyway.

"I mean, how are you feeling James and Carlos…?"

"Fantastic." We said in uniform sarcasm.

"You guys don't have to worry about anything to do with BTR until you are all recovered, just so know that's not why we're here." Kelly chirped.

"Hi, Kelly!" Carlos said and then looked at me and said "What? I missed her."

"Hi, Carlos." She smiled.

"So, if you're not here for BTR related reasons, why are you here?"

"To, uh… to see if you guys were… uh, you know… ok." Gustavo said in his usual non-colloquialism when confronted with heavy topics.

"Well," I said. "We didn't die, for the most part. Carlos and I leave tomorrow, but Logan had an extraordinary mental breakdown and will be let out God knows when." It still seemed like they were here for a reason bigger than they were letting on.

"And Kendall… he tried to… uh…" It was now Kelly who couldn't get the words out.

"Yeah he did." I answered quickly so she wouldn't have to finish her sentence. An awkward silenced flooded the room like rushing water. Finally Kelly spoke again.

"So, pertaining to what we will tell the press about the crash—"

"No." Carlos cut her off aggressively in mid-sentence. "You can tell them there was a crash. That's it. Nothing more. Nothing about how badly we're hurt, nothing about Camille and not a word about Kendall." I nodded in agreement with him.

"That's completely fine. Just so you know Roque Records will cover any medical costs and we're hoping you guys get better soon. We will visit you tomorrow and let you rest. Bye guys." They scuttled out of the room nervously surprised by Carlos's out burst.

Upon their exit Mamma Knight reentered the room.

"Anything I should know about?" she asked.

"Nope. Anything we should know about?"

"Not that I can— Oh, wait yes. Kendall knows you kissed his face, James." For the first time since I entered the hospital I heard Carlos and Mamma Knight chuckle in unison as I felt my face flame up and go beet red.


	6. Chapter 6

**So, yeah. Way over due for an update, but what can you do? Sorry.**

KPOV

Can you remember the last time you were having an intellectual conversation with someone that didn't turn in to a screaming match? Like, when was the last time you had a difference in opinion and someone looked you straight in the eye and said "Hey, what do you think about -insert act of government/ political or religious view/ new celebrity scandal? -" I used to think that that was my problem, I felt like I was in a screaming match with the world, when really, I was shouting at myself. I thought I was yelling my emotions and screaming my feeling to the ones I loved, but I guess I was too discrete so I was just reminding my self of what I felt; capturing me in a place I never wished to venture: a bubble of self pity.

That's what I told the psychiatrist who comes and talks to me every few hours. I think he seemed pleased that I had told him that much. I don't even know why I did tell him that. Every word I spoke to him gave me a really heightened sense of anxiety, like how it would feel if someone had been video taping the conversation. The doctor tried to introduce himself, but I wouldn't let him. If I get to personal with him I won't be able to share with him what I feel. If we develop a relationship of familiarity, I will have the undying need to not disappoint him, and wanting to kill my self would disappoint him.

I bet there is some big, long, scientific name for the need to not disappoint people, not that I would ever let the shrink tell me what is was. If you give it a name, it becomes real, and I prefer living in the false bliss of false ignorance, thank you very much.

I bet there is a name for that too.

"You're sweating." My mothers voice pulled me away from my thoughts as she felt my forehead. It was all she had said since she next to me over an hour ago. I wonder if she can stomach what I did enough to not hate me. "Don't worry, I don't hate you."

"How did you know I thought that?" I looked at her in what was probably a face of shock.

"Because that's the same look you wore on your face when your father… when you thought it was your fault. I wish all your emotions were that easy to read. Maybe if they were. I would have noticed; I would have seen how bad you were hurting."

"I don't hate you either, Mom. There was just no way I could… I couldn't let you down after everything you did for me, for Katie. I just thought you would feel like you didn't do your best if you knew I wanted to… if you just knew." The words, wrong as the felt rolling off my tongue, felt good to finally share with her.

"And you thought I wouldn't feel like I didn't do my best after this?" The question wasn't supposed to provoke guilt, it was just a rhetorical interjection, but I answered anyway.

"I didn't exactly expect to live through the outcome." I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth. You'd have thought I damn near slapped my own mother in the face. "Oh no, Mom. I am so sorry, I don't even know why I-"

"It's not a sin to have emotions, Kendall." She cut me off. "It would be cruel and unusual punishment if I told you what you did was selfish, because you were suffering and it wasn't. But telling you it was stupid is another story. You are so loved by so many people and you got this messed up idea in your head that if you told them how you felt, you wouldn't be able to protect them anymore. Kendall, you know we live in a house where help is offered when needed and you can be as open as you need to be. I just wish you had seen that before it pushed you too far. Sweetheart, with all the lives you've touched, no one would think less of you if you asked for help when the world on your shoulders got to be too much. I love you more than anything, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I love you too." What she had said left me incapable of any other response.

"Okay, Its time I get James and Carlos out of this hell hole. I'll be back later."

"Will you come see me later, Mom?" I felt empty now that she was leaving.

"As soon as the boys are home and with their parents." She bent down to hug me and disappeared out side the doors.

* * *

><p>LPOV<p>

There were now restraints around my wrists keeping them close to the side of the bed and keeping me in place. Understandable considering I just destroyed probably thousands of dollars worth of medical equipment. The light above me was bright and stinging my eyes but it took to much effort to close them due to the sedative they forcefully gave me to ensure that I didn't hurt someone or my self or any more EKGs.

Next to me a nurse replace the saline drip that was connected to my IV. I looked over at her as she squeezed the bag of solution to start the drip.

"Imma end up en the nut hut wiff Kindle, arn I?" My speech was slow and slurred because the sedative had only just begin to dissipate.

"The Nut Hut? That's a new one." The nurse laughed. "No, I don't expect you to end up in the psych ward. Your reaction was actually better than we expected. It showed how much your starting to remember, and we are not going to slow that process by putting you under constant surveillance with out the contact of your friends."

"That mean you kin untie meh?" The wrist restraints were making me really uncomfortable.

"Uh, yeah I can do that. They were mainly so we could sedate you with out stabbing you in the throat with a syringe." She reached over and unsnapped the restraints and let my arms fall to the bed. "You know, I hate to say it, but that little episode pushed back your release date. But, on the bright side you are going to me moved out of the ICU and into a neurology department that is more specialized in your case."

"Wha does tha mean? Speslized in meh case?" I hoped she could understand that, I barely knew what I was saying.

"Well as it appears what ever damaged caused you to loose your memory left some other side affects. One of those being motor skill control issues, which would explain the limp you've developed while you've been here. The other is harder to explain." She looked off in to space for a second before saying, "Logan, do you know what part of the brain is responsible for creativity and memory?"

"Wha?" I had to think pretty hard about the question she just asked considering I hadn't looked in a medical journal in months and I couldn't remember the city I was born in. Its like every thing I do is one step forward two steps back. "The, uh… temporal lobe?" I finally responded.

"Yes, good that's right. And the one to controls motor function?" I don't know why she was asking me this. It was probably the just another memory test.

"The frontal lobe." I wasn't too excited to play 20 questions with her.

"Listen, Logan, I can only explain a small bit of what's going on, but I need you to concentrate. The two lobes you just told me actually sit on top of each other. The same swelling that has caused your memory loss has also put a certain strain both lobes causing a… disturbance in your thought process."

"A disturbance? What do you mean a disturbance? Can I speak with my doctor?" my speech had returned to normal, but now I was scared. The nurse nodded and walked out of the room, only to return with Kendall's doctor.

"Hello Logan, I am your new attending, Dr. Moon. Do you remember me?"

"Yeah, I do, now could you tell me what the hell is going on in my head?"

"Well, the swelling in your brain is not, at least at this point, dangerous. But, its also not going down with the help of the steroids we've given you. As to the disturbance in your thought process… well it's a condition that I've only ever heard of. The last report I've heard of was in Liverpool a few years back. It's extraordinarily rare, but in response to the swelling, you brain as become a sort of power center for creative output. I rather dark creative output I may add." I tried to soak in what she had just said, but almost none of it made sense.

"Could you give me an example of this "output"?" The nurse and Dr. Moon glance at each other for a moment.

"When you had a fit earlier today you were screaming entirely in rhyming poetry that you had created on the spot about the situation." All I could do was stare at her.

* * *

><p>CPOV<p>

A walker. I actually had to use a walker. They are making me use a walker. If I ever feel as helpless as this again, I will die.

"Carlos, you look like an old man." James snorted from across the room.

"It's so I don't rip my stitches, dumb ass. At least I can put my own pants on." His face turned in to a pseudo-serious glare as soon as I said that. He was probably still pretty embarrassed that he didn't have enough mobility to pull on even the loosest of sweatpants by himself, not to mention that the two nurses who helped him where very pretty.

"Carlos Garcia, you have to swear on your grave that you will never say that again." He was only half joking.

"And if I don't?" Provoking him probably wasn't the best idea, but his wheelchair would keep him from doing any serious damage.

"I will rip your stitches out myself, and then—"

"Boys, do you have to fight now?" Momma Knight had appeared in the doorway, with our finished release papers. Her face was red and swollen from lack of sleep and crying.

"No, of course not. Sorry Momma K." James said quickly to try and ease the tension.

"That's ok. So we can leave now, if you like. I'm just waiting on a nurse to help me with the wheelchairs."

"Chairs? Plural? As in two?" I was not about to be pushed around in a wheel chair again. "I can walk though!"

"It's just a precaution, Carlos. And while I am sorry about the fact that you're confined to the chair for a few more hours, you should know that's someone special is waiting for you at the crib." She looked more cheerful as the said this.

"Special? Do you mean my parents are here?"

"Well your mother yes, but your dad couldn't get the time off work."

My mom was here. The first time I get to see mom in months and she has to see me like this. What if she decides to take me home? My stomach started to sink as I pondered the possibility of her bringing me back to Minnesota. The end of BTR is one thing, but actually leaving the guys behind was something I swore to myself I would never think about.

"Don't worry, bud. She is just here to make sure you're all right." James said. He obviously thought the same thing I did.

"Time to talk physical therapy." Dr. Nugent said in a singsong voice as he entered the room with out bothering to knock. "Your boss, Mr. Rocque has arranged it so that all of PT can take place at home. Each of you will do some simple exercises for a few hours each day until you're strong enough to start living a normal life again. Carlos, your stitches will be out with in a few weeks. James, you unfortunately have a much longer recovery time. The cast will be on for another two months with some time spent in a brace. I will see you guys soon."

He walked away to quickly for us to ask questions, but I got the gist of what he was saying. Basically, there would be a lot of doing nothing in the next few months.

"Well, I guess we are clear to go then." Momma Knight said, pushing a wheelchair towards me. I collapsed in to it and a nurse took my walker to carry for me.

…

When we reached the car I thought James was going to puke. I was about to as well. The thought of being back on the road, to put it lightly, scared the fuck out of me. My breathing quickened and I felt the oxygen mask I was supposed to wear cover my nose as I was lifted in to the mini van.

* * *

><p>JPOV<p>

As soon as we walked in to the apartment Carlos' mother was rushing towards her son, shouting in rapid Spanish. She almost hug tackled him before she became aware of the walker. She opted for a gentler hug and a kiss on the cheek before turning to me.

"How are you feeling Diego?" She always called me by my Spanish name when my mother wasn't around. My mom would usually correct her, upset by how less Hebrew it sounded. Which is weird because I can't even remember that last time we even thought about lighting a menorah.

"I'm fine Momma Garcia. Just tired and you know, injured."

"I was so frightened to hear about the crash, imagine if one of you had been killed." She paused to shutter before turned to Momma Knight. "Genevra," (also a Spanish name) "Is there a place where I can speak to my son in private?"

"We can talk in my room Mama." Interjected Carlos who had removed is oxygen mask and replaced it with cannulas in his nose. Momma Garcia simple nodded walked slowly along side him to his room.

"Is it just me or do you guys completely forget that Carlos speaks Spanish?" said Katie, appearing out of thin air. Momma Knight let out a sort of chuckle before saying,

"Katie, will you go to your room. James and I need to talk."

"Fine by me." She said, walking away quickly. It was pretty easy to see that the conversation Momma Knight intended on having with me wouldn't be a fun one to watch or take part in. Momma Knight wheeled me over to the couch so she could sit at eye level with me. We sat in a smothering silence for a few moments.

"You know for this being such a crap situation, the weather is lovely today." I said to try and initiate the talk.

"James,"

"Sorry."

"No it's not that. James, I am about to ask you a question that I'm not sure you even know the answer to." She said quietly.

"Uh, okay. Shoot."

"What exactly are your feelings toward my son? I know this is awkward and I don't mean to put you on the spot, but I need to know for Kendall's sake."

"What do you—?"

"I mean, I know you love him, but I need to know if you like him more than a friend at all."

"Momma Knight, I…" How the hell did I feel about him? I could feel blood rush to my cheeks and my hands start to shake. I never once let my self actually think about how I feel about Kendall. I love him, but was I _in_ love with him? I mean, my sexuality had never really been a straight line and everyone knew it, but to have romantic feelings towards Kendall seemed… seemed possible actually. "Momma Knight I don't know."

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, but in Kendall's state he has, I don't know, developed a stronger identification for you as his friend. If you could have seen his face when Katie told him that you kissed his cheek, you would have realized what it meant to him. The next couple months are probably going to be the hardest of all of our lives, and if you like Kendall more than a friend, you need to really be dedicated to the long hull here."

"Do you actually think that I would leave just because this sucks so much?" My brain was racing as I processed what she said.

"That is not what I am implying, James. I am saying that you need to think about how you feel about him and offer him the kind of support that the relationship you choose would require. I am not in anyway urging you to reciprocate what ever feelings he has for you, I just need you to make a choice to support him as a friend or something more."

She didn't say it in a way that would make me uncomfortable; she was actually really nice about it. It was my feelings that make it hard to compute. That's the best part about Momma Knight; even while serious she is the nicest person I've met. That's probably why Kendall is such a great guy.

"I will try and figure it out, and this is gonna sound weird, but thanks for bringing it up, so I can finally make myself figure it out."

"Of course sweetheart. Now I have to go back to the hospital and see Kendall. I love you, and tell Katie and Carlos where I went and that I love them too." She smiled at me; probably her first real smile since the crash.

"Will do, Momma Knight." With that she was gone and I was alone with my thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>1) This is actually a real case that happened in several hemorrhage patients. I thought it would be a weird twist. Did you like it?<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer/warning! Logan's part is supposed to be hard to read and oddly poetic considering his brain injury. I also wish to express my dearest apologies for taking forever to update, but I have a pretty busy schedule. So, yeah. I also own nothing in relation to BTR or in this chapter's case, The Catcher in the Rye.**

LPOV

Alone. I am alone. She is gone and I am alone. Alone forever. I am alone in an infinite death. An infinite death that prevails in life, leaving me alone. She's alone too. She must linger in her final moments of life. Moments spent in shock and anguish and agony. She is alone and preserved in the kind of alone only held by death. She is alone, and with out her I am too.

This is the alone that Kendall felt when he etched the word in tears and ink. A dreaded alone where letting someone in is a thought you can't risk to think. You don't even want to let anyone in. Why would you spoil such pain on someone whom it would brake? But Kendall did brake. He broke in to thousands of pieces before he decided to end. To end. I don't want to end though. I want to be alive and alone because that's what I did my whole life before I met her and I now must go back to before then. Because we can no longer be alone together. Camille and I.

"Logan," She called softly. The doctor who entered my room. She wants me to speak; I assume that's why she came. She stands in the door, pausing at first, awaiting a reply she expects to be in verse.

"Yes." I call stopping my voice from sounding meek and turning my attention to the IV that leak. Leaking chemicals in to my body, trying to limit my ability to create.

"Logan I would like you to look at me." What an unpleasant request for attention. I oblige in spite. "We are getting desperate when it comes to the swelling in your brain." Her voice was to calm to admit desperation. "We are going to operate to drain the fluid collecting in your brain. To do this we must drill a whole in to the side of your head, and requires you to be conscious. I've made it sound more dangerous than it is, but its risky enough that we need consent from your biological mother." What mother? I've lived with out her for 3 years. "Your mom will be here with in a few hours and as of now the surgery is scheduled for tomorrow morning."

"Okay." The only word I speak. She wants me to say more, but why should I let her in to make her see me as a freak. She wants to judge the world with in my mind; the infinite thoughts of a universe that no one else can seem to find. The abyss of mortality and grieving morality. She wants me to talk to hear me create and I want to be heard, but not by one whom she herself described me as disturbing. Why is she so eager to listen if she is so frightened?

"Logan, do you have any questions about your surgery?" She tries to capture me again, but for her sake I can stand in both universes at once.

"No, should I?"

"No, I was just wondering if you had any questions about the procedure or if you were nervous at all."

"Nervous about what?"

"The brain surgery you are about to receive." She said this as if it were obvious, which, it might have been to her.

"Would it be rational for me to be nervous about this?"

"Yes, that would be the normal response…"

"Than no, I am not nervous."

From behind her a voice sounded. Calling for response and sounding just to sound. Hoping that there would be something left of her son to answer.

"Logan?" my mother asked at the door. "I know I'm early, but I was just hoping to speak with him for a few hours."

I didn't hear the rest of what she said because by that time I had both feet in my universe.

* * *

><p>CPOV<p>

"Mama you can't bring me home, you can't do that to the band."

"This isn't about the band Carlos, this is about your safety. Why don't you understand? Being out here and living this life has made you reckless. You were nearly killed!"

"You think I don't know that? Of course I do! But staying here isn't for me; it's for the band! And, being out here hasn't made me reckless. I was fine. I _am_ FINE!

"That's all you say! "It's for the band." Why has fame come to mean more than to you than you're life? I raised you better than that Carlos Roberto Garcia!"

"Fame? Is that what you think the band means to me? When I say the band I mean the guys. My best friends, I mean. I need to be out here for them, for Kendall. I couldn't care less about the fame right now!"

"You need to be out here for Kendall? Carlos I know you love him, and that he is your best friend, but there is only so much you can do for him right now. He is family, I understand, but after this do you think you can save him? Or that he can be saved at all?"

"Yes. I do." I was crying, which was embarrassing. Not that I had never cried in front of my mom, but still.

"I'm not saying you being here wont help, what I mean is that all of you would be far more stable if you came home. As soon as you can breath on your own I want you coming home for at least two months before you think about coming back out here again and 6 months until the idea of the rejoining the band even crosses your mind. I realize this is not what you want to hear, but did you ever think about the fact that this-" She gestured to everywhere. "is what caused the kind of pressure that made Kendall think he has no other escape route?"

"But it didn't do that to me! It made and continues to make me happy."

"At the cost of your best friend's life?

"That's not what I meant. You know that's not what I meant."

"But, Carlos, I really don't. I know nothing about you anymore. We haven't talked in months, not really. Even Jen said she has no idea what was going on with Kendall. Living this life divorced you from what matters. It taught you how to be independent, but it did that in the worst of ways. Now, you're going to spend a month in Minnesota before we talk about this again."

"But what about Ken—"

"Kendall will be in rehab for a month before he is released. He will also be in the Midwest and won't be able to have visitors for two weeks anyway. I've heard the end of this for now, Carlos. Please get some sleep."

She left the room and I did as I was told. It was amazing how exhausted I was from just speaking. It took me a few minutes to try and get comfortable with out lying on my stitches or strangling myself with my oxygen tubes. The cannulas tickled my nose and the sound of the air rushing out was relaxing, in a white noise sort of way. You'd think it would be nice to have something take over the task of breathing for you, but it make me a little uncomfortable. Even though I was out of the hospital I wasn't in control of my own actions. After I relaxed I took a moment to look around and absorb the room that I would only call my own for a few short days. The blinds were closed and the room was dark and I could have slept for days if the world wasn't ending around me. The world we had come to know for 3 years was falling a part and all I could do was watch it burn and take lives in its destructive path.

It's funny because my brothers used to tell me that I could sleep through bombs going off, but in the moment I could have only shut my eyes if I were dead.

* * *

><p>JPOV<p>

It was hard listening to Carlos and his mom fight, mainly because the fighting was in Spanish, but also because I didn't need a translator to figure out what they were saying. Carlos and Kendall were headed back to Minnesota, and by the looks of it Logan was too. How are we going to just fall back in to normal life? It's not like any one will treat us as they did before. When we left Minnesota we left as the 4 hockey heads that everyone thought would return in just a few short weeks. I don't even remember the guy I was then. I don't recall my love for hockey, I don't remember what my locker combination was, I don't remember the name of the girl I first kissed.

At least when Logan forgot everything, he lost it all. There was no sense of radical change in his view of the world he just couldn't remember. But for me, I remember the major details but I can't think of how I felt or how acted or what I wanted in those days. Now it was all about my life here with no ties to my childhood.

Quite frankly, I didn't have a lot of ties to Minnesota when I left. My mom was to busy and my dad didn't care. There's not exactly a lot to go back to, but there is no choice to be made. With Momma Knight leaving whom would I turn to? What would happen to me if everyone left? I can't stay here by myself, but neither of my parents would be all too happy to have me back.

I couldn't stand to think that way again so I rolled my self toward the window to try and distract my self in the lives of the unaffected Palmwood's residents, but I sort of got distracted elsewhere. I thought about a book I read sophomore year. It was the only book Logan convinced me to actually do the reading for. It was about this guy who was kicked out of school and went to New York and got beat up a lot. I don't really remember it, but the kid felt a lot like Kendall did I guess, because he kept romanticizing getting shot or dying.

But apart from Kendall feeling like him, I kind of did too, when I was sitting by that window. In the book he kept asking what was going to happen to him by asking people about some ducks in a pond in Central Park. What's going to happen to me when winter comes? Will someone take care of me, or will I have to find my own way out of this hell situation?

"You're not thinking of throwing yourself out of the window are you." Called a small voice from behind me.

"Where the hell did you get that idea, Katie?" I wheeled around to face her.

"I don't know. You looked sad and I… I guess I'm paranoid. I don't want it to happen again, I guess." She looked embarrassed.

"I wouldn't guess that, Katie. I know I don't want it to happen again." She nodded and started to walk away, probably wanting to be alone, but I didn't want to be alone and I am to selfish to not have called her back in the conversation.

"Wait, Katie. Have you ever read _The Catcher in the Rye_? Like, just on your own?" She wasn't old enough to have read it in school.

"No, I think Kendall likes it though. I used to find him reading it really late at night."

"Yeah, that makes sense. He always was kind of a Beatnik."

"A beat what?"

"Beatnik. It's like a generation of writers after WWII who criticized American conformity and the use of atomic weaponry." She looked just as shocked by what I said as I was having said it. "I don't know why I remember that. Maybe Logan said that to me once." I followed with to make seem less important to me than it was, but she decided to just surprise me back.

"Do you love Kendall?" She didn't look phased or hopeful, so I told her the truth.

"I don't know. I think…. I do."

* * *

><p>KPOV<p>

"Kendall, could you tell me everything that happened that day?"

"Everything? Sunrise to sunset?"

"Maybe in not that much detail, but anything you thought or think might have been important."

"What qualifies as important?"

"What ever you think qualifies as is."

It's an interesting concept. What ever I think is important is important. Almost every psychiatrist who has spoken to me has kind of abided by that rule. This one in particular was especially fond of it. He has a kind face that looked like he'd seen to many cases exactly like mine and had a system of how to deal with it. He wore a bow tie and thick coke bottle glasses and carried a cane. If I ever had a chance to live again, I hope I'd age as he did. Though I still knew none of my therapist's names, I might like to know his, when this is all over.

"Uh, ok. I kind of know what you're asking, but there was no main event that made me do it. It wasn't like one moment that pushed me to far or anything."

"I guess you don't really know what I'm asking then. Could you tell me about the little things then?" He smiled before writing something down on his chart.

"Oh, I… I woke up pretty hung over that morning. I'd been drinking a lot, but I don't think anyone noticed and if they did I don't think they realized how much I had actually been drinking. But, um, anyway, we got to the studio and we started rehearsing and everything was going great. And that sounds weird, you know, to be having a great day before you off yourself but that's how it was. I felt sick because of the booze, but no one had to know. The longer I kept it a secret, the longer we could all live in ignorance. As the day progressed, we still sounded good, but I felt like I couldn't really hear the music, I couldn't really see a reason for doing any of this anymore. Like, what's the point? Then Gustavo said something, something about how we would make someone proud if we worked that way all the time. I know he meant it as a complement, but I couldn't help but think that I had no one to make proud. It was like my friends and my family didn't exist, and instead of not seeing a reason to be in a band anymore, I didn't have a reason to live anymore." I looked up to see the therapist's reaction, but just looked at me and said:

"Continue."

"Right, so I told Kelly that I was going to be sick, which at the time I thought I was, and went home. The crib was empty so it didn't, like, occur to me that I had anyone in the world at all. I still had a bottle of vodka in my room so I drank it to make my self not feel alone, but it made it worse. I started hearing my own voice ringing in my ears to end it, to save everyone the trouble for having known me. That's kind of all I remember."

"Kendall, I think it would be useless to try and tell you that you're not alone. You may not recognize it now, but no one is ever really alone. I'm not trying to convince you of that now, but I merely wish to share what I believe. If you wouldn't mind, may I ask how you're feeling now?"

"I don't think better would be the right word, less suicidal might cover it."

"You might like to know that hearing that may as well have been the highlight of my day, Mr. Knight." And with that, he left to speak with my mother in the hallway.

**Salinger, J.D. **_**The Catcher in the Rye**_**. Boston: Little Brown, 1951. Print.**

**Damn right I cited it in MLA7**


	8. Chapter 8

**So, yes. I'm back. Sorry its taken so long to update. Well, sorry not sorry. I've been busy, but if it helps I'm actually kind of proud of this chapter so there's that. Anywho, I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

><p>KPOV<p>

The constant flow of people coming in and out of my room has subsided. It used to be that I was checked on every 15 minutes, but it seems as though yesterday's conversation with the kind-faced doctor was enough to get me off of suicide watch. That scares me. It scares me that I am in control of my own life again. Doctors were still stopping by to check my meds and ask how I felt and tell me that its going to get better, but I wasn't being treated like a time bomb anymore.

The thought of me going home today makes me feel sick, like my stomach is clenching in on itself in anticipation. I actually have to present my self to the world and act as if the last week didn't happen. I have to revisit the place where I tried to end it and pretend it doesn't matter and it another week's time I will leave again for rehab and pretend like that's okay with me.

"Kendall, sweetheart. Do you want to know what's going to happen for the next few weeks?" My mom had appeared at my bedside. She had been in and out all day; filling out paper work and talking to doctors.

"Uh, sure." I didn't really want to know; knowing makes it real.

"Well, Carlos's mom is taking him back to Minnesota this evening, She's not too keen on letting him come back here ever, but has agreed to talk about it after Carlos has spent a month or so back home. Logan's mom is taking him back home as well, but he still has a day or two in the hospital. For a short while Logan will see the same therapist as you to make sure nothing drastic has happened. You, my love, will spend a few days at home before going to a rehabilitation center for two weeks. It was originally supposed to be a month, they've agreed to let you come home because Gustavo has hired a psychiatrist to visit the house everyday."

"Gustavo is doing that for me? That seems out of character." As nice as she was making things sound, I know that if it weren't for me their lives wouldn't be so fucked up.

"Believe it or not kid, he likes you. He has also agreed to tell the public that BTR is going on an unspecified hiatus with no ties to what happened to you guys."

"And what's happening to James?"

"He's coming home too, but his relationship with his parents had only gotten worse, so were gonna have to see what happens." She looked worried, which made me sad. I don't want my mom to have to worry about my friends and me. "You ready to go?" 1she asked abruptly.

"Yeah, lets go."

As it turns out Katy had been waiting in the car. Luckily the crash only damaged my head and ribcage so getting myself out of my wheel chair wasn't as hard as it could have been. When we arrived at the palm woods the entire world had its eyes glued on me.

I could feel everyone who looked at me with pity in their eyes were to uncomfortable to say anything. Those that did speak to me didn't get anything in besides a "Hi," or "Good to have you back buddy." This was probably the most uncomfortable walk to the elevator I've ever experienced. Everyone just looked at me like I was a dying animal in a nature documentary, and it probably didn't help that I was walking so slowly because I was so sore. I knew that my actions would have consequences, but I could have never thought that wanting to die could be anymore humiliating.

The crib looked like no one had been there for months, let alone a week. All of Carlos and Logan's things have been packed in suitcases that were stacked near the door. Katy and my mom had been working hard to pack but there were still things scattered around. Carlos looked up from where he was sitting in the couch with his mother.

"Kendall!" he got up as fast as he could, which was actually very slowly, and walked towards me. "I have to leave today

* * *

><p>LPOV<p>

Light was filtering in from the blinds leading to the hallway. Everything was blurry, but I could see the outline of my mother crammed in to the uncomfortable hospital chair besides my bed. I wanted to reach out and hug her; to apologize for every negative though I'd ever had about her because in this moment I needed something I tried to convince my self I didn't need any more. In this moment I needed my mom. I needed someone to tell me it was ok. I needed someone to tell me it wasn't my fault, even though I knew it was. I need this because I couldn't rely on intelligence for these things.

As my vision became clearer and I became more aware of my body as the anesthesia wore off I shifted my weight to face her.

"Mom…" I murmured, hopefully loud enough to wake her. "Mom." I called again not any louder.

"Oh, sweetheart" she whispered as she woke. She looked at me in disbelief, as if this frail creature that sat in front of her could in no way be her son. She ran to the door and shouted down the hallway for a doctor, but then returned her attention to me. "How do you feel?" she muttered as the sat back down and grabbed my hand.

"Like I just had brain surgery." I said with a smirk, unable to hear her reply because a team of doctors had now entered my room ready to examine my mental status.

After having my vitals checked and undergoing several rehabilitation tests I was free to speak with my mother. The tests had just proved exactly what I had concluded when I woke up. I was instable condition with a slightly elevated pulse rate caused by the steroids used to reduce the swelling in my brain. My memories were still faded and hard to reach, but I had regained a fair few more. I was also no longer catatonic, which was a plus.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry this happened to you. I just about had a stroke when I got the phone call that you were hurt. I just wish you hadn't been so far away from me when it happened, darling." She was still speaking in a whisper and flecks or her Texan accent were uncovered as they often are when she's concerned about me. We just stared at each other for a few moments before I said what I had needed to say to someone since I was pulled from the broken car.

"Mom, this is my fault. I'm the one who should be sorry, I was the one driving the car and I am the reason she's…" But I couldn't finish what I had meant to say. I just did what I had been trying to stop my self from doing for a week now. I cried. I cried hard and long and in my mother's arms as I did when I was a child and she said nothing because she knew there was nothing she could say. When my throat was raw and my eyes stung and my diaphragm was sore from heaving I looked up and asked:

"Mom, when is the funeral? I need to say goodbye, I need to tell her I love her."

"Sweetheart, the funeral was two days ago. I am so sorry you couldn't be there but we can visit the cemetery before we leave."

"What? Why couldn't they have waited? Why did it have to happen so soon?"

"No one on this earth should have to burry their child. Would you really ask them to prolong the experience?"

"No, I could never do that, but … Mom, I love her… Loved her."

"And if you love her can you really blame your self for what happened?"

"Not really, but I still do… If that makes sense."

"Logie Bear, sometimes really bad things are going to happen to the really great people in your life, including yourself. Do you know what you do when that happens? You carry on. You push through until the end like the soldier I know you are. And when you make it to the end, things have a way of working them selves out."

* * *

><p>CPOV<p>

Kendall had just walked in and for the first time in probably months I really looked at him. I properly studied his features and to put it as nicely as possible he looked really fucked up. He had lost so much weight you could practically see his ribs through his shirt, he was paler than you could imagine and a large bruise ran over his forehead down his left cheek to his jaw. His eyes were watery and massive dark shadows outlined them and his lips were really chapped.

"You look like shit.' I said with out thinking and then quickly added "It a good way…?" He just smirked at me.

"I could say the same about you, Carlitos. You're still chipper as ever though." He said that and I suddenly wanted to punch myself in the face. I shouldn't be happy right now, I shouldn't have been happy for the past few weeks while Kendall was suffering. It's not fair that we all carried on with our lives as he drank himself dead. We all sat there in ignorance as his sadness ate him from the inside out.

We had been silent for a few minutes and finally he stepped forward and embraced me in a very gentle yet, meaningful hug and said, "Carlos, stop blaming yourself. At this point I don't think anyone could take the blame here. I tried blaming the world and I tried blaming myself, but there is no way I could blame you, or any of the guys. Sometimes it's nobody's fault. Sometimes there is no one to be angry with."

"I love you, Kendall. You're like the best friend anyone could ask for, and you don't deserve the shit that's been handed to you."

"And you don't deserve the aftermath of my mistakes. I'm so sorry and I love you, too." We stepped back from each other and I looked up at him.

"Are you scared, Kendall?"

"More than I've ever been before, but I've decided that it's okay."

"Do you still want to die?" That I had said in a whisper, like it was a swear word.

"I can't tell. Maybe, but I've decided that that's okay too, because now that the secrets out, doesn't feel like I'm dying alone it feels like I'm surviving amongst friends. I can't pretend I'm not hurting, but like I guess I don't have to." After a few moments he added, "So when do you leave?"

"I was just about to leave before you walked in. I guess this is for real. I'm going "home.""

"I'll meet you back there soon. Get better so we can play hockey." He pointed to my oxygen tank as he said this.

"Get better so we can live it "big time."" I laughed as I said this and pointed to his heart. He gave me a solute and with that I was leaving.

As we went through security at LAX I began to remember what life was like outside of the band. Few people recognized me, and most just did a double take. There was something nagging me about being on a flight home with out the guys. It was like I was giving something up or leaving something behind. Obviously we'd all be together again once everyone was back to Minnesota, but it would be stupid of me to think that it wouldn't be different.

We'll act like nothing happened, like the band didn't exist for the first few days, then when Kendall gets back we'll watch what we say and pay attention to him more then he'll enjoy, then after awhile we'll all fade in to a routine of false normalcy. But even with all that we'll try and be happy and we'll live as we always do: for each other.

And with that I said goodbye to California and prepared for the best and the worst.

* * *

><p>JPOV<p>

It felt as though I had just said goodbye to Carlos forever, even though I'd see him in a few days time. But as weird as that felt there were more pressing matters at hand. Kendall had just gotten home and I needed to tell him what I told Katie. Its probably an awful time to do such a thing but I feel like there will be consequences if I wait.

"Kendall, can you come here. I gotta talk to you." I shouted, hoping my voice wasn't shaking as much as my hands were in anticipation. He entered the room a few moments later with a meek grin. "Could you close the door and sit down." He did so looking confused and sat on my bed. I rolled my wheelchair as close to him as possible with out ramming my broken leg.

"Okay, um I, like, know this is a really shit time to tell you something like this…" I stammered. Oh, fuck this was harder than I thought. "Oh God. Um, Kendall there is something you need to know and I don't know how you'll take it."

"James. Honestly you could tell me you where a pregnant crack-whore with Leprosy and my opinion of you wouldn't change."

"Well, I'm certainly not pregnant… or a leper."

"Thank God, I was worried."

"No, Kendall I know you're avoiding a serious conversation, but I need to tell you something. I just need to tell you that imenluvwifyou."

"What?"

"I'm… in love with you."

"No, you can't say that. Because you're not, I know you're not. So don't do this to me. This isn't a fucking joke, James. Even if you did feel something for me its not because you love me its because I was hurt and you just think you feel something more for me because you were worried. You're just… not."

"Kendall, I'm not joking. These aren't newly developed feelings. I'm in love. I love you and I don't even care if you love me back, I just needed to tell you." I was practically shouting.

"No one can be in love with me, that's not how it works." He said so quietly I could barely hear him before he started to cry.

Kendall never did anything half-assed, so much like everything else he gave it his all, and sobbed so hard it hurt to watch. I just sat there and held his hand because he probably needed this, but eventually I couldn't take it anymore. I supported myself on my good leg and kissed him. Not to prove anything, just because I knew he would stop. And he did, and he kissed back with little force, but with so much emotion. When we broke apart, our faces stayed close and he whisper: "I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>So... what did you think? Was it cheesy? Tell me! I need to know! *note: I update faster when more people review*<strong>


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